Saturday, July 15, 2017

jarvenpa

One of the first blogs I read and commented at was written by a woman whose blog name was jarvenpa. She lived in a fairly unpopulated area in Northern California, not all that far from the ocean, in an area that I am familiar with and which is dear to me. It was dear to her, too.

Just now I learned that she died at age 67 of a heart attack a little over two years ago. Her last blog post was in the winter of that year. I didn't get any more updates from her on my blog feed but would visit her blog anyway, wondering why she had stopped posting. It never occurred to me that she had died. Her posts had become less frequent. She had many responsibilities. A full life.

For some reason, today, I went to her blog again. For some reason, I clicked on the name of her friend, ocean lady, who told a Buddhist story about a turtle. I had just read Colleen's Turtle Musings.

"When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe."
(John Muir)

jarvenpa is dear to me. She shared her heart with us. I'm grateful to have known her through blogging and for the connections we all continue to make through our blogs.

"...I’ve stayed up, haunted, through many a long night. And I wouldn’t have missed it. And…well, in the moment, the air is sweet. The bees have gone into their hives for the night. Some I love are dead, some are far from me, but right here the cats are purring, my littlest kid sits with his papa, the dog is smelly and loyal and content, and life goes on. For now, that’s enough."

3 comments:

touching and moving post my friend!you have really beautiful kind heart to love your blogging friend as much and visit her even when she was not posting .i am moved by your precious sensitive heart and i wish everyone can have ability to love someone as deeply but i know it is not possible ,there are some who are blessed with this ability

This is so very moving. There are people in this virtual world I have come to love deeply, and I know I will follow them till their last post, and I hope I will not be left wondering how they are. I am touched by your love for jarvenpa. It could not be more real if you had sat in each other's company and shared your hearts. Thank you for your own tender heart.

The death of people we get to know only on the internet is a strange experience -a "disembodied death". Years ago, someone I only knew through an email mailing list and corresponded with a lot simply stopped sending emails. I later discovered she'd died.The discovery bought me up short.

It's not just the internet. I'm a radio amateur and an American ham I chatted with often suddenly dropped off the radar. I googled him after a while and found his obituary. Interestingly, I discovered he had been a very active Republican. His political views were diametrically opposed to my own! However, as hams we were not allowed to discuss politics on air and we got on well.

Oboe in late April 2018

How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside me, what can it be? -- Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890)

Welcome to "TALKING 37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE)".

The photograph currently at the top of my blog was taken on May 8, 2016, at West Beach in Deception Pass State Park in Island County of Washington State. For years after leaving Northern California in 1973, I had a recurring dream that there was an ocean beach not too far south of Bellingham. My joy at discovering that beach in my dreams was offset by my grief that no such beach existed when I woke up. On May 8, 2016, I visited West Beach for the first time with a friend who also grew up in Northern California. West Beach is the beach I dreamed about for so many years. May 8, 2016, was the 29th anniversary of the beginning of my healing in connection with bulimia, anorexia, alcoholism, and the beginning of actively using the creative gifts I had been born with. On May 8, 1987, I spent the entire day driving south on Highway 1, frequently gazing at the Pacific Ocean from Mendocino County to Santa Cruz County when the ocean was visible from the road.

"OLD GIRL OF THE NORTH COUNTRY" (the earliest name for my blog) came to life in early December of 2006 so that I could post a 42-year retrospective of my paintings and drawings and through that action, create a new relationship with the day the man I loved returned from Vietnam in December 1970. For a while (sometime after spring of 2008, which is when he died) my blog was "TALKING 37TH DREAM WITH RAINBOW (RUMORS OF PEACE)". For a number of years, it's been "TALKING 37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE)." As of April 12, 2017 my blog is now titled "37TH DREAM / TALKING 37TH DREAM (RUMORS OF PEACE/LOOKING UP)".

To begin viewing the retrospective with narrative, scroll down to December 8, 2006, on this page:

How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside me, what can it be? -- Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890)

I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant. -- Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968)

All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware. -- Martin Buber (1878-1965)

It is only a little planet, but how beautiful it is.

-- Robinson Jeffers

The true end of a war is the rebirth of life;the right to die peacefully in your own bed.The true end of war is the end of fear;the true end of war is the return of laughter.

-- Alfred Molano

Enjoy every sandwich -- Warren Zevon (1947-2003)

Not in God's wilds will you ever hear the sad moan, "All is vanity." No, we are paid a thousand times for all our toil, and after a single day spent outdoors in their atmosphere of strength and beauty, one could still say, should death come — even without any hope of another life — "Thank you for this most glorious gift!" and pass on.

-- John Muir (1838-1914)

Philip Henslowe: Mr. Fennyman, allow me to explain about the theatre business. The natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster. Hugh Fennyman: So what do we do? Philip Henslowe: Nothing. Strangely enough, it all turns out well. Hugh Fennyman: How? Philip Henslowe: I don't know. It's a mystery.